Gkarlives
Mystic and Misfit
- Joined
- May 25, 2005
- Messages
- 1,050
Hello, fellow SFF fans, been a while. I just wanted to share a little mood creating flash fiction I wrote and posted on my blog. I finally had a moment to clean it up some more to take away some clunkiness. This story came to me the way Corpse Eater did, by way of the words just popping into my head. The force was a bit smaller and did not inspire a novella but only a mood setting piece that actually has deeper, harder bones. So here it is:
Autumn Bones
by
Robert Garbin
Cold so bitter that breathing hurts, making sound sharper than the keen edge of a surgical knife. Yet there are no sounds other than the relentless winds. Miniscule, glittering bits of ice swirl across the land with no purpose, nothing to affect but the world itself. The place is abandoned. Days turn into nights then back into days, no meaning anymore. Hunger gnaws the famine winds, which suck heat from any surface, struggling to retain the memory of warmth. Recall crystallizes until it cracks and shatters into frozen dust.
Autumn’s bones lay scattered upon this glacial waste. Their spindly silhouettes cast weak shadows even under the fierce light of a sun that jealously withholds its warmth. Warmth leaking out like the bitter tears of life’s neglected costs under Summer’s blind greed, now mixed with the grizzly remains of Autumn’s warnings. Oh, how pride has left not even the marrow of these once colorful bones.
Autumn Bones
by
Robert Garbin
Cold so bitter that breathing hurts, making sound sharper than the keen edge of a surgical knife. Yet there are no sounds other than the relentless winds. Miniscule, glittering bits of ice swirl across the land with no purpose, nothing to affect but the world itself. The place is abandoned. Days turn into nights then back into days, no meaning anymore. Hunger gnaws the famine winds, which suck heat from any surface, struggling to retain the memory of warmth. Recall crystallizes until it cracks and shatters into frozen dust.
Autumn’s bones lay scattered upon this glacial waste. Their spindly silhouettes cast weak shadows even under the fierce light of a sun that jealously withholds its warmth. Warmth leaking out like the bitter tears of life’s neglected costs under Summer’s blind greed, now mixed with the grizzly remains of Autumn’s warnings. Oh, how pride has left not even the marrow of these once colorful bones.
